“Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’”
The second slip read: NTMW 6,14. This translated into New Testament, Matthew 6:14.
“For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”
The third slip of paper read: NTC 3,13, which was New Testament, Colossians 3:13.
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
By the end of three weeks, I read fifteen verses about forgiveness, and I knew what he meant. Through the Bible, he pleaded with me to forgive CE for what they did to Petra.
“We’re not perfect because of what happened with Adam and Eve,” I remember Arkin telling me, “but because our Perfect God sacrificed His Son, the only perfect Man, we can all be forgiven of our imperfections. We’ll be forgiven and accepted into God’s Kingdom because of our faith in His Son and His great sacrifice.”
I remember every word of every conversation we had in the dark corner of the Blind Spot. Much of what he said was logical, but I still stew in my contempt of Code Enforcement, the Code, and the long dead Ulysses Gideon.
How can Arkin expect me to forgive them? They systematically destroyed my family—first by killing my father, then by killing Petra. Now I don’t even know my mother anymore. How can I let it go like a simple mistake, like a stranger stepping on my foot in a crowd? How can Arkin possibly understand what he’s asking me to do?
Mom’s laughter echoes from the other side of my bedroom door late Saturday morning. The smell of pancakes drifts into my nostrils. Petra always makes her laugh when she flips pancakes into the air and catches them with the spatula. A strange male voice jars me back to reality. Mom laughs with Hunter.
I scurry out of bed and enter the living room, still in my pajamas. Hunter and Mom lounge on the living room sofa, sipping coffee together.
“Good morning,” Mom says in a sing-song voice. “Hunter surprised me and came over to cook breakfast for us. We saved you some.”
I say nothing. I won’t even look at him. The man’s beady eyes stare a hole through me as I cross into the kitchen.
The banana chocolate chip pancakes taste a thousand times better than anything I’ve digested since Holiday. Bananas and chocolate? A meal fit for Og’s household. Hunter even brought syrup.
“How do you like it, sweetie?” Hunter asks, stepping into the kitchen.
Sweetie? I nod, keeping my eyes on my plate.
“I’d like to take you and your mother out with me today across Gideon,” Hunter says.
“To where?” I ask, staring him down.
Mom steps next to Hunter. “To the aviary. I haven’t been there in years, and they’ve completely remodeled it.”
“I thought we could all spend some time together and get to know each other,” Hunter says.
I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth to ask when they will be leaving, but a knock comes at the front door. Mom disappears to answer it.
“Raissa,” she calls. “It’s Arkin.”
I jump to my feet and wipe the syrup from my mouth before rushing to the door.
“Can we hang out today?” Arkin asks.
My heart flutters. By the look in his eyes, I can tell he wants to take me back to the outskirts, and I can’t wait to return.
“I’m going out with Arkin today,” I say, peeking around the door.
Mom frowns. “Why don’t you bring him to the aviary with us?”
I freeze, thumbing through the files of excuses in my mind.
“Audrey, it’s okay,” Hunter says. “Let her go. She’s got better things to do.”
Hunter winks at me, making my skin crawl.
Mom sighs. “Be home for dinner.”
After changing out of my pajamas and into a fresh coverall, I meet Arkin outside on the steps.
“That was him? The one you told me about?” he asks, stepping into the crowd of pedestrians.
“Yes,” I say. “I didn’t know she was still talking to him. She hasn’t mentioned him in weeks.”
“Maybe I was wrong,” he says. “Maybe he’s a friend from work.”
I grimace. “Either way, I don’t like him.”
Without another word, we scurry down the street toward Hollis and Sons Farm, exchanging knowing glances with each other when we pass CE officers.
At the stable, I’m less apprehensive about mounting Piper the second time, and I do it with more ease.
“She’s a good gal, isn’t she?” Arkin asks me after we wave to Sted and head toward the back gate.
“What? No blindfold?” I ask.
“You deserve to see the journey,” he says.
“Great. I get to watch the last few moments of my life.”
He chuckles.
“Does the horse have to go so fast this time?” I ask, bracing myself.
“I love how fast she goes. It feels like flying,” he says. “I imagine Heaven feeling something like it.”
“Why are you so sure about Heaven?”
“Because Jesus said so much about it, and I believe what He said. If I don’t believe it, what other hope do I have?”
“How can I be sure Petra is there?” My eyes burn, and I shut them, grateful Arkin can’t see my face.
“Because she had faith, and so do I,” he says. “And so did my brother.”
“You have a brother?”
“Larson. He’s in Heaven too. That’s why we have to forgive, because we believe.”
“How can I forgive them for something so cruel?” I ask, trying to steady my tone.
“The same way I forgave CE three years ago when they executed Larson.”
Before I can respond, Piper takes off at full speed toward Philippi.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The names on the concrete wall trail from floor to ceiling in three columns. They’re mostly first names but a few had last names, some familiar-sounding and others sounding foreign. The believers added Petra’s name to the list. Arkin points out his brother’s name a few names above Petra’s.
“This is how we remember our martyrs,” he says, tracing the letters of his brother’s name with his pointer finger under the beam from a flashlight.
“There’s so many,” I say, not restraining my amazement.
“Sixty-eight,” Elder Mark says, “and that’s only those who died from our village. There’s a wall like this at each village.”
“How many villages are there?” I ask.
Elder Mark cocks his head at me. “The fewer people that know, the safer we are.”
I frown and return my attention to the wall. “I don’t see my father’s name, Corbin Santos. Was he from another village?”
Arkin and his father exchange glances.
Elder Mark nods at me. “Corinth.”
“Did you know him?” I ask, hoping he can tell me more about my father.
“Not very well,” he says. “I’ve only been to Corinth a handful of times.”
I sigh, not hiding my disappointment.
“There’s another place I want to show you,” Arkin says. “Dad, can I take her to the library?”
I’ve never heard the word library before. Is it above ground or below? With it being only my second trip to Philippi, I have many other corners of the village to explore. But should I be worried about what mysterious places Arkin wants to show me? The people are strangers, still considered enemies by nearly everyone I know. I can trust Arkin, but I can’t be sure about the others.
Elder Mark nods. “I think she’ll like that.”
We part ways with his father, who heads above ground to gather crops.
“We have a garden up there, a full acre, with all types of fruits and vegetables,” Arkin says, heading through a dark corridor in the cement maze of the underground community. “I’d like to take you up there today.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “You hide dow
n here, but you manage to grow food up there. How is it that CE hasn’t noticed the gardens and found you?”
“They’ve never had enough officers to scout the whole area surrounding Gideon,” he says. “The leaders think it’s best to focus on securing the city limits. This has been a major blessing from God. I don’t know what would happen if they knew our village locations.”
The beam from his flashlight falls on a closed set of gray metal doors before us. I swallow hard as we approach it. He tugs at the rusty handle and it gives him a fit, but it finally opens toward us with a loud groan of protest. The inside is pitch black, so dark that his flashlight beam can’t reveal the mystery beyond the open door.
“I’ll go light the candles. Stay here,” he says, disappearing into the darkness.
I wait, rubbing my bare wrist at the spot where my ID usually remains. I can’t say I miss the device, but the absence of it makes me feel unlike myself and very unlike a citizen. I smirk. The farther I travel from Gideon, the lighter the weight on me becomes.
The room beyond the door lights up in sections as Arkin’s shadow passes like a storm cloud. Three lights reveal one corner, and then two more reveal another. Five candles become ten, and the candlelight unveils the room. With more candles lit, the room glows like the trees and grass within reach of a new sunrise. The room’s walls hide behind wooden shelves. Two other wooden shelves stand parallel in the center of the room, filled with stacks of books.
“You saved this many Bibles?” I ask.
“I wish. About a quarter of the books are Bibles. The rest are what’s left of our nation, what our ancestors saved after the war.”
I step into the room and take in the scent, one identical to the Bible I possess. The smell, heavy with dust, whispers of days long ago.
I walk to the nearest shelf and touch the first book within arm’s reach. The spine reads Pilgrim’s Progress in gold letters on rough, red fabric. My fingertips glide from spine to spine, feeling the foreign materials the books are made of. Rough and smooth. Rough and smooth. I scan title after title and strange names like Shakespeare and Dante.
“You have to see the art,” he says, slipping past me to the nearest corner of the room. “You won’t believe how incredible it is.”
He brings a tall, thin book, grinning like a child with a bag of oranges. He sits on the cold, cement floor, pulling me down with him. I settle beside him as he lays the book open on the floor.
I lose my breath. In the center of the painting, a bearded man dressed in white steps out of a cave. Glowing humans with wings bow at either side of him. The colors are brilliant, even in the low light.
“Is that Jesus?” I ask, tracing my fingers along the smooth paper where the man in white stands. “Is that what He looked like?”
“No one knows exactly what He looked like,” he says, “but many artists have drawn him like that. Those are angels on each side of Him.”
“I’ve never seen a painting like this,” I say. “In Gideon, all of the portraits are of city-state leaders or Ulysses Gideon.”
“There are thousands of paintings of Jesus. He’s the most famous person who ever lived. You should hear the music people made for Him. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard in your life.”
“Like the music you play?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “That was nothing.”
“It was beautiful. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since I heard it.”
He lowers his eyes, his cheeks glowing. “We have a music player and some of the songs they used to listen to. There are so many instruments playing all at once in this amazing flow. Every time I hear it, I can imagine walking along with Jesus in a garden.”
I turn the pages in the book and marvel at each painting. They all depict Jesus somehow. When I finish examining the last painting, he brings a stack of books to the floor. We spend nearly two hours browsing them and talking. With each new book, my eyes open more and more to what used to be the world before Gideon, a place of freedom and peace, a place without gray coveralls and career placement tests.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say.
He blows out the candles surrounding us. “We’ll come back again. There’s so much more in here to read, but I want you to keep reading your Bible.”
“Can we meet at the Blind Spot again?” I ask.
He frowns, closing the library door behind us. “With Hunter around, that doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”
“I know you want me to forgive them, but I don’t know how,” I say.
He turns on the flashlight. “You first have to be forgiven yourself.”
I huff. “Forgiven for what? I haven’t killed anybody.”
“We’re all sinners. You can’t be forgiven if you don’t accept that.”
My pride swells. “I don’t need forgiveness. I need an apology from CE.”
His expression drops. “You’ll never get that.”
“Then forgiveness is out of the question.”
►▼◄
Throughout each worship service at Philippi, my spirit totters between incomparable joy and unbearable guilt from one minute to the next. The songs make me smile easily, but Elder Mark’s words cause an invisible spotlight to glow over my head. Every word burrows inside of me, but I resist the urge to give up my hatred. Even during my fourth worship service, I cling to my bitterness like a soft blanket and refuse to let it go.
“It’s time we bring Ogden in,” Arkin says, walking through the underground tunnel from Philippi.
“Og? Why?” I ask, shuddering at the thought.
“Why not? He’s our friend,” he says.
“I told you, Og is too loyal to the Code.”
“I don’t believe that. Once he finds out who I really am and meets the other believers, he’ll—”
I reach ahead and grab his wrist, forcing him to stop. “No! It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care,” he says, yanking out of my grasp. “Every time a believer shares the truth with a Gideonite, it’s a risk, but we do it because that’s what God calls us to do. We have to let as many people know about Jesus as we can, no matter what.”
“Why?”
“So they can go to Heaven!” His voice carries through the tunnel and echoes behind me. We both freeze, startled. He blinks, relaxes, and lowers his voice. “Don’t you see? Jesus wasn’t about overthrowing the Romans, and we aren’t about overthrowing the Code. We just want to see souls saved.”
I shake his words from my mind. “If you tell Og, I won’t have any part of it.”
“He won’t trust me without your backing. You’re his best friend,” he says. “Please.”
I avoid his pleading glance but returned to it. He’s still adorable, intelligent Arkin, no matter how crazy his ideas are.
“Fine,” I say, “but we do this my way.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rain soaks April beyond the middle of the month. Arkin and I have no choice but to wait for a sunny day to take Og to Hollis and Sons after school and tell him our secrets. That day, after four days of rain, turns out to be the twenty-fourth of April.
“Arkin’s been showing me how to ride a horse,” I say. “It’s not that bad.”
“You’re terrified of horses!” Og says. “How much did he pay you?”
“I didn’t pay her to do it,” Arkin says. “She found her courage.”
Not courage. Maybe curiosity or desperation, but not courage.
We walk along the road in the fresh spring sunshine. The pavement still sparkles with scattered puddles in the cracks. A gentle breeze shakes the green leaves and pink blossoms over our heads. Loose petals trickle down, floating like snow. The road soon turns to wet dirt, and we arrive at the horse stable.
My stomach twists in knots when we head into the pasture. God, what if Og tells his dad? I pray. What if Arkin gets arrested? Should we be telling all of this to Og?
A massive oak tree makes the best shade for us. I spread out
a thick blanket from Arkin’s backpack, and we all sit on it.
“I thought we were going to ride horses,” Og says.
“There’s something we have to tell you,” I say.
“You’re in love with each other,” Og says with a smirk. “I already knew that.”
Arkin blushes. “Actually, we’re just friends.”
I try my best not to react to his words. Part of me still hopes for something more than friendship between us.
Og furrows his brow. “I thought …”
“Arkin was sent to me by the people in the outskirts,” I say. “He’s one of them.”
I expect him to jump to his feet in amazement with his mouth wide open and speechless, but Ogden only stares at us with a blank expression.
“I had my suspicions,” he says. “Go on.”
“My people are not enemies,” Arkin says. “We mean no harm to Gideon. We only want to share the truth with everyone.”
“What truth?” he asks. “That the Code is a lie? That the Code is unfair? I know what you enemies go around spreading. My father has told me all about it!”
I reach into my backpack and hand him the Bible. “Take a look at this. My family tree from my father’s side is in there. This is a book from before Gideon was even founded. It contains the truth about where we all came from and what’s going to happen to us.”
He opens the Bible and examines the family tree. He flips through the pages and squints at the words through his glasses.
“So you’re telling me my father has been lying to me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at us.
“Your father only does what he’s told,” Arkin says. “He doesn’t know any better.”
Ogden returns his gaze to the Bible in his lap. “So what’s in this thing? What’s the truth?”
Arkin explains the true origins of the city-state, the war, and the nation that once was. He tells Ogden the truth about Ulysses Gideon, and Og offers a skeptical expression. Then I share what I read in the Bible about the beginning of time and God. Og gazes around the pasture with an inquisitive look.
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